


A Better Sparring Partner

by ArchangelEquinox



Series: Once More to the Breach [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bets & Wagers, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Minor Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus, Skyhold, Sparring, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 04:31:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4333970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArchangelEquinox/pseuds/ArchangelEquinox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Inquisitor must always be working to better her combat skills.  Who better to help her improve than her illustrious Commander? </p>
<p>And of course, all of Skyhold turns out to watch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Better Sparring Partner

Two recruits sprinted past, yelling at one another to hurry up as they went.  They were so preoccupied, they almost ran into their stone-faced Commander, who was staring at them, arms crossed. 

            "Gentlemen," he said as they snapped into form, hands clenched at their sides. 

            "Ser!" They both shouted, trying to keep their eyes from wandering to the sparring ring behind the Commander's back. 

            "Watch where you're going next time," he snapped.  "Back to your duties."  Both young men slammed their hands over their hearts in a salute before sprinting off.  Cullen rubbed his hand over his forehead as he continued across the courtyard to the training dummies. 

            "You know they aren't going back to work," Cassandra told him as he walked up.  She lay the sword she'd been practicing with aside and sat down. 

            Cullen sat beside her and pulled out several rolls of parchment. 

            "I am well aware of their distraction," the Commander said gruffly.  "They'll have latrine duty next round." 

            One of Cassandra's eyebrows rose.  "Isn't that harsh?"

            "Probably, since they're only supposed to be guarding the courtyard," he admitted, but didn't change his mind.  "Now. I brought the most pressing requests for troop aid…"  The two got to work prioritizing their army's assignments.  The Inquisitor wasn't likely to ask for Cullen's recommendation for several more days, but it didn't hurt to be prepared.  And since she so rarely listened to his opinion, he wanted to have every contingency mapped out.

            "What are we going to do about Sahrnia?" Cullen asked and realized that he almost had to shout to be heard over the commotion coming from the courtyard.  Neither he nor Cassandra had given the noise a second look, but now a crowd was starting to gather. Cassandra twisted around to look for several moments before turning back to the reports in front of them. 

            "It's just a sparring match.  Little of interest."  She dismissed it with a wave of her hand, and Cullen, agreeing in sentiment even if his interest was piqued, directed his attention back to their task. 

            They worked for another ten minutes or so before a new set of voices interrupted them.  These ones sounded much more familiar than the general roar of the crowd.  Cullen was trying harder than ever to ignore it when Cassandra's head shot up.

            "I hear Varric," she said suddenly.  The two exchanged looks before rising as one and heading over to see what was going on.  Both of them knew that if Varric was getting involved, money was changing hands, and if money was changing hands, then whatever was happening was worth seeing.        

            And worth seeing it was. 

            The Inquisitor crouched just inside the new sparring ring they'd built in the center of Skyhold's main courtyard.  Apparently, she'd decided to christen it herself. 

            In a council meeting two weeks ago, Talia had made the argument that visiting nobles would like to see that the Inquisition's army was training at the highest level, and thus requested a new sparring ring be built.  The old one was perfectly serviceable in Cullen's opinion, if a little run down.  The new one, however, was large and open, complete with a raised wooden platform and polished rails.  Nearby sat several armor and weapon stands, loaded up with wooden practice swords, staffs, and daggers.  Even he had to admit that the updates looked better, more professional for their growing army. 

            The ring practically butted up against the side wall of the tavern, which was where Cullen and Cassandra were headed.  Both cut intimidating figures, and the crowd parted, revealing the Commander's second, Knight-Captain Rylen, squared off against the Inquisitor.  He was moving carefully, one foot crossing the other, his shield up and sword poised to attack. 

            Across from him, the Inquisitor bobbed gently from foot to foot, never letting her weight settle.  Breeches and a light tunic, its sleeves cut away, slung to her sweat-soaked form. 

            "You done?" she challenged just as Rylen lunged at her.  She moved to dodge away, missed his feign, and ended up with a face full of shield.  The momentum pushed her backward and she turned it into a flip, ending up perched on the top of a rail post. 

            "Perhaps!" Rylen shouted back.  "But you'll have to get back in the ring to find out."  A broad smile broke over her face. 

            "You sure you want me back in there?"  Her voice didn’t waver, but her nose was bleeding a little. 

            "Who's done now?" he taunted back, and Talia leapt back into the ring. 

            Cassandra and Cullen had managed to find Varric and the others in the crowd by this time.  Dorian stood pressed up against the rails, carefully dodging when the Inquisitor had backflipped onto the post near him, and now was screaming encouragement, his hands cupped around his mouth.  Leliana watched with her usual stoic expression from behind her hood.  Next to them, Varric alternated between watching the fight and jotting down numbers in a small notebook as soldiers placed bets. 

            Daggers clashed against sword and shield in front of them, and something clicked in Cullen's mind. 

            "Steel? They're using real weapons?" he growled at Varric, who didn't even look up. 

            "As if that's any danger, Curly," he said calmly. 

            Cullen sputtered.  "Of course there's danger! All it would take is one wrong move, and we're without --"

            "A second?" Cassandra interrupted as the Inquisitor caught Rylen's sword on the guard of her dagger and flung it away.  To his credit, he didn’t back down, instead adjusting his body weight and bashing her with the shield.  As she staggered, he lunged for his blade and raised his arm just in time to block a whirl of fierce strikes from the Inquisitor.

            Above them, Sera hooted her approval out the window of the tavern.  "Go Quizzie!"  Cullen glanced her way and she smirked down at him.  "Quizzie's gonna kick his arse, eh, Cully-Wully?" 

            "I give up," he sighed.  "Let them kill each other."  Beside him, Cassandra smiled. 

            "Curly, you should get in there with her," Varric said, throwing a wink Cullen's way. 

            "I will do nothing to help you win that stupid bet about the Inquisitor and I, dwarf." 

            Varric blinked, hard, and turned to the group around them.  "All right, who spilled to Curly?"  His eyes traveled over Dorian, who shook his head so fiercely his mustache wiggled, and Leliana, who gave him a cold stare, before settling on Josephine, who had just joined them and now looked sheepish. 

            "I, um."  The diplomat was unusually speechless. 

            "Ruffles!"

            "I couldn't help it," she admitted, tossing up her hands.  "I thought perhaps he could give me an idea so I'd have better odds when I bet."  Leaning against the rail, Cullen rolled his eyes so hard they were in danger of leaving his skull. 

            "Dammit, Ruffles!"

            Before them, sunlight suddenly broke through the clouds and sparkled off Rylen's shield.  The Inquisitor lurched backward, momentarily blinded, and Rylen charged.  His shield smashed into her chest, sending her flying into the post not three feet from where Cullen and the rest were standing.  She grunted and staggered to her feet while Rylen advanced on her warily, shield up. 

            "No way! No WAY Boss loses," Bull said, joining them from the tavern. 

            "I don't know…" Varric started to say just as the Inquisitor vanished in a puff of smoke.  Rylen stood up straight, confused, and started to turn in circles.  They leaned over the rails to get a better look, and Bull started gesturing wildly as he caught the shimmer of the Inquisitor creeping up behind Rylen.  Dorian smacked him hard on the chest, his own eyes wide.  In front of them, Varric was practically vibrating with anticipation.  Coins clinked into the bucket at his feet. 

            The moment Rylen faced where the Inquisitor stood cloaked, she dropped out of stealth.  "Did you miss me?" she smirked before she pounced.  Rylen was almost too surprised to move. 

            It became painfully clear that Rylen was on his last legs in the ring, and Bull turned to Cullen.  "You should get in there with her," he said, wiggling his eyebrows.         

            "For the last time…" Cullen began before Leliana cut him off. 

            "Think of it this way, Commander," she interjected.  "If you are the best sword and shield we have to offer -- other than Cassandra--" she added quickly when the tall woman shot her a dirty look.  "Then you are the best option to help her train.  Maker knows she gets plenty of practice against Cassandra in the field, so she knows all her tricks.  She won't know yours."  Cullen could have sworn he saw the spymaster wink behind her hood. 

            "And she _is_ kicking Rylen's ass," Varris added. 

            "Do you really think --" he began.

            "Yes!" chorused Bull, Dorian, and Varric. 

            "Get that shirt off and in there with the Quizzie!" Sera shouted from her perch.  The three men below her roared with laughter while Cullen blushed up to his ears. 

            "I'm not sure this is really…" He trailed off, seeing Josephine smile gently at him and nod. 

            "I do agree that it could be helpful," she said.  He kept turning to his friends and fellow advisors, hoping one of them would save him. 

            When even Cassandra nudged her head toward the ring, a tiny smile on her stern face, Cullen knew he had no choice.  He sighed, dropping his chin to his chest for a moment before  looking up at the pair still sparring in the ring. 

            The Inquisitor had Rylen pushed almost to the far edge of the ring, his shield gone.  One arm was curled into his chest, and he was using his off-hand to maneuver his sword, just barely warding off her blows.  He was losing ground, fast. 

            With a cry, the Inquisitor sacrificed one of her daggers to catch his sword on it, flinging both away.  As Rylen stared at this development, stunned, she jumped, tucking her knees into her chest before pushing her boots into his chest with all her strength.  The release threw them both backward; she caught herself on her hands and pushed over until she was back on her feet.  Rylen was not so lucky.  He landed smack on his back and didn't move for a long moment.  Silence settled briefly over the ring. 

            Then he pushed himself up.  "I yield, Your Worship," he mumbled before falling against the post behind him.  The soldiers erupted into cheers, and the Inquisitor bowed gracefully, her arms tucked around her body. 

            "Rylen," Cullen shouted then, standing up at the rails of the sparring ring.  "No offense, but the Inquisitor clearly needs a better sparring partner than you."  The man looked hurt for a split second before re-assessing his current position sprawled on his ass, his sword and shield both far away. 

            "Yes ser," he said and climbed to his feet.  He made to leave the ring, holding the gate open for Cullen, who stepped inside.  Around him, his soldiers started shouting encouragement. 

            "You think you've got what I need, Commander?"  The Inquisitor stood with a hand on her hip, her dagger jutting back behind her.  One eyebrow rose in a salacious challenge.  Behind him, Dorian and Bull hooted. 

            "We'll find out," he answered and shrugged off his coat. 

\---

            Talia didn't move.  Instead, she watched Cullen as he shed his coat and most of his armor.  She knew she needed to go grab the dagger she'd flung across the ring, needed to towel off her sweaty forehead and chest, but she couldn’t make herself move, not until she'd gotten her breath back. 

            She didn't want to admit it, but she was more exhausted than she looked.  Rylen had proven a far superior opponent than she'd suspected; it was making more and more sense why the warrior was Cullen's second-in-command.  That shield bash to the face… that hurt.  Blood was still trickling from the series of small cuts inside her lip where her front teeth had impaled them. 

            But she wanted to fight Cullen.  Maker knew she'd watched the man train with his soldiers enough times -- now was her chance to find out if he was a good as he looked. 

            _Careful there_ , she reminded herself.  _Don't want that overactive imagination wandering into unsafe territory._   As if on cue, Cullen yanked off the thick padding under his breastplate, leaving his chest covered in only an off-white linen undershirt.  Its neck was unlaced, revealing a patch of taut, tanned skin and a hint of chest hair.  She heard Sera hoot above them and smiled to herself.  _I can always count on Sera to voice my inner thoughts._

            Now the Commander was picking up his sword, hefting it in the leather of his gauntlets and peering down its blade as if it weren't perfectly balanced already.  He made a show of picking a shield while his soldiers offered advice. 

            Dorian waved her over and Talia casually scooped up her other dagger as she walked.  Her breathing was returning to normal, and even though she could still taste blood in her mouth, her body felt less sore as her adrenaline started pumping.  Cassandra handed her a towel as she approached. 

            "Thanks," she muttered, tucking her daggers into her belt and wiping her face.  There was more blood on it than she'd anticipated. 

            "Now darling," Dorian began. "Try not to kick the Commander's ass too thoroughly." 

            "Yeah, wouldn't want to ruin it for later," Bull said, elbowing Varric, who grinned.  Cassandra snorted too, though she quickly composed herself.

            "Ooo, Round 2 in the Quizzie's quarters!" Sera shouted down.  Even Talia turned red at that one.

            "Hey, yeah!" Bull yelled, his face lighting up, but Talia just held up her hands in defeat. 

            "What do you all really want?" She asked, towel draping over her hand.

            "I've got a lot riding on this, Sunburst," Varric said, tapping the book he held for emphasis.

            "Me too!" piped up Josephine.  The ambassador looked positively gleeful. 

            "Ignore these maniacs," Dorian said, setting a hand on her shoulder and pulling her away slightly.  "I just want the Commander to still be speaking to you when this is done."  He looked genuinely concerned that she'd hurt Cullen's pride, and Talia laughed. 

            "Don't tell Varric, but I don't think I'll smoke him that badly. If at all." 

            "Oh, you will.  Just don't ruin that pretty face. His or yours."  He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek quickly. Over her shoulder, Dorian could see Cullen's mouth settle into a hard line at that, and he winked at him. "Good luck. Oh, and try to wipe the stench off, will you?  I'm sure the Commander will appreciate it." 

            "Get out of here," she jested, smacking his shoulder with her towel.  Bull leaned over as she started to walk away and pressed a mug into her hands. 

            "Just water," he said.  She traded him the towel for the mug and drank it down. The tingle of elfroot washed over her injured mouth and she felt some of her small injuries knit themselves back together.  Pulling back, she shot him a meaningful look: Definitely not just water. Definitely a watered-down health potion.

            He winked his one good eye at her and took the mug back. "Just want a level playing field.  Go kick his ass."  Her strength returned and the breeze picked up, lifting her sweaty shirt off her back and cooling her down.  Bull grinned. 

            "Yes ser," she said.  Pulling her daggers from her belt, she twirled them around her wrists and turned to her waiting Commander. 

            There was very little pause when their match began.  Everyone watching knew the rules: no hits to maim, no blood if possible, no magic, and little else.  They were using real weapons, which added a level of excitement to everything, but provided they were reasonably careful, no one should be hurt.  Too badly, at least. 

            For a long moment, Cullen and Talia just circled each other.  His shield was raised in front of him, his sword held out with the point facing her.  She twirled one dagger idly in her hand, the other at the ready. Around them, the audience was bubbling with excitement.  The breeze was still blowing, carrying off a little of the heat of the afternoon. 

            Neither had spoken a word yet, but Cullen was too much of a gentleman not to offer her a way out, she knew.  At this point, she was only waiting for him to speak. 

            "We don't have to do this, you know," the Commander offered finally from behind his shield, gesturing to her face.  "You looked injured before."

            Reaching up, she wiped the last of the blood from her nose away. "Don't want to embarrass yourself, Commander?"  She dragged his title out just enough to flirt with the line between respect and sarcasm.

            "I am only looking out for your well-being, Inquisitor," he said. They circled as they spoke.   

            "And I, yours," she replied, and vanished. 

            From her position of power, the shimmer of her movements blending in with the soldiers behind her, she watched Cullen.  He sighed theatrically, as if to indicate that this was a waste of her abilities, but she knew better.  His many talents didn't extend to spotting someone in stealth. Once, she and Sera had scaled the walls of his tower, slipping in through the hole in his roof to taunt him from the loft.  Cloaked, Sera had thrown little pieces of bread while she'd rearranged every little knickknack she'd found.  Cullen had been furious, cursing up a storm at the pastry raining down on him, but when he'd come to check, he'd found nothing.  He certainly hadn't seen the two women crouched in the corner and shaking with suppressed mirth, their shimmers giving them away if only he'd looked hard enough.  Later she'd heard him consulting with Solas about possible spirits that haunted Skyhold's towers. 

            The memory made her smile, but his sudden --and misdirected-- lunge brought her back to the ring.  Now behind him, she crept up and sliced a hole in the back of his shirt before dodging away.  He spun, swinging his sword, but missed.  

            She laughed out loud, hard, and he dove for the sound, his blade just missing her.  Now it was a game, and she was definitely winning. 

            Talia repeated the action several times, always zipping in, slicing, and zipping back out.  Cullen missed her every time, and she could see his frustration mounting.  His shirt was criss-crossed with slashes, his toned abs and back visible through the fluttering holes. Bull and Varric were laughing now, and a smile had crept across Leliana's face.  Sera was almost fully out the window above, her arms balancing her against the sill as her legs swung, shouting useless advice to Cullen at every turn. 

            The wind gusted over them again.  The stealth powders were wearing off fast now, but she couldn't help but laugh and dive in again when the breeze barely ruffled the remains of Cullen's shirt.  She swiped by, one last time, and opened a gaping 'wound' in the linen across the front. 

            This time, Cullen didn't swing for her.  Instead, he made a face and plunged his sword into the wood in front of him.  It was soon joined by his shield propped against it. 

            "That's how this is going to be then," he grumbled as his soldiers chuckled.  "Fine."  He reached a gloved hand for his back and grasped a handful of linen.  It ripped as he pulled it over his head, and Josephine sucked in a breath when the rest of his well-muscled back came into view.  Cullen ignored her as he threw the shirt's tattered remains at Talia's now-visible feet.  "Show off," she heard him mutter as he yanked his sword and shield back into place. 

            Talia picked up his shirt and wiggled her prize briefly in Dorian's direction, but the mage didn’t look nearly as happy for her as she'd have expected. 

            Behind her, gloves on but chest bare, Cullen was clearly pissed off.  Dorian's face collapsed into an elaborate cringe just in time for her to dodge sideways.  The shield missed, but the flat of Cullen's blade smacked her along the thigh in his follow-through. 

            "Andraste's tits!" She yelped, jumping away on one foot and rubbing her leg.  The soldiers clapped, some of their Commander's dignity restored with the cheap shot on the Inquisitor.  _I probably deserved that_ , she thought as she tried to regain her balance.

            Muscles tense and shield up, the Commander was ready.  "You wanted to play, Inquisitor?"  He made a 'come hither' gesture with the tip of his sword. "Let's play." 

            This was going to be fun. 

            Talia, having regained her footing, leapt nimbly to the top of the posts around the ring.  Soldiers ducked out of her way as she moved from one to the next, never letting her eyes leave Cullen. Or his body, if she were honest. 

            He sprang toward the post and she pushed off, tucking her knees into her chest to flip through the air.  She'd expected him to be in front of her now, but he'd feigned; she landed only to immediately encounter his shield.  Recovering fast, she threw herself at him, her blades spinning faster than even she could see.  Cullen ducked behind his shield, throwing his weight behind it to meet the onslaught. 

            There were gouges in the silverite when she was through, but she was also breathing far harder than she should be.  She was tired.  Finding herself wishing she'd taken Cullen's out only pissed her off though.  She feigned left and then threw her right dagger at him, but he'd feigned too and the dagger sailed past.  As she looked for it in the crowd -- hoping it hadn't hit anyone, she'd expected it to slam into his shield -- Cullen took his opportunity. 

            The fight seemed to slow.  He tossed his sword up as he continued to move right, spinning to catch it by its now upside-down hilt.  There was a brief moment wherein he appreciated the look of surprise on the Inquisitor's face just before his strike connected.  Then everything sped back up as his pommel hit her square in the jaw and she crumpled backward. 

            The crowd was gasping almost before she hit the ground.  In front of her, Cullen looked less triumphant and more terrified as Bull started hurling obscenities in his direction and Dorian tried to unhook his staff from his back, fumbling at the clasps. 

            She pushed herself to her feet. 

            "I'm fine," she told Dorian, holding up her palms to demonstrate.  "No blood. I'm fine."  No blood was accurate, but a large purplish-blue bruise was already blooming along her jaw.  Dorian still looked furious, his gaze moving to Cullen, who had frozen. 

            "Nice hit, Curly," Varric called, sarcasm lacing his voice. 

            "It was a good hit," Talia said, her sincerity countering Varric.  "But not good enough." Plunging a hand into her belt, she threw a dark green powder over herself and the crowd gasped.  Now, instead of one Inquisitor, they saw four dancing in front of them.  Cullen hadn't recovered his wits fast enough to know which was the real one, and he lunged blindly at the closest. 

            "No such luck, Commander."  The wind carried her voice to him, but he still couldn't tell which Inquisitor was her.  Around him, one laughed, another lunged, and the third -- the real Talia -- threw herself into a combat roll through his legs, popping up behind him and slashing at his breeches. 

            The back of them sagged, revealing a not insubstantial peek at his smalls, and she smiled.  He spun toward her, providing her Inner Circle with a good look at his backside.  Dorian wolf-whistled. 

            Now he spun back, his face and chest flaming in the prettiest blush Talia had ever seen. 

            "Red's a good color on you, Commander," she called, cartwheeling away from him. 

            "Let's try it on you," he taunted back, facing her in a low crouch. 

            She vanished in a puff of smoke, reappearing inches from his shield. "Is that a challenge?"  Her legs vaulted her up, one pushing off his shield to flip her over his head.  He rocked backward with the impact but managed to shoot his sword hand out.  The flat of the blade smacked against her shin, throwing off the balance of her jump, and she landed awkwardly on her side. 

            "Always, Inquisitor," he smirked down at her. 

            Talia took an extra moment to get to her feet;  she knew Cullen would give her that much.  Despite everything -- including the blush that still lurked on his cheeks -- he didn't look overly tired, nor was he losing form as they fought.  On the other hand, she could feel her form worsening with each move, and she only had one dagger left.   

            _Let's see how his close game is_ , she decided.  If she could get rid of either his sword or shield, she'd have a better chance. 

            Cullen had straightened up, his sword still at the ready but his shield dropped over his knees.  He eyed her suspiciously. 

            Slowly she pulled herself up.  The weaker she appeared, the more ground he'd give in sympathy.  Or at least she hoped. 

            Lunging, she parried his swing with her remaining dagger and punched him square in the jaw with her other fist. He recoiled enough for her to wedge herself between his shield and body, and she flung an elbow into his jaw to emphasize it. 

            She was too close now for him to use either his sword or his shield, and she saw his face as he realized it.  With a grunt, he hefted the shield away from his body.  It clanged against the wooden platform of the ring, and he quickly swapped his sword into that hand.  Now, his dominant hand was freed up to fight back. 

            In close combat, Talia was good.  Extensive training thanks to her elder brothers ensured that she could throw as much force as any soldier, and her rogue training meant that she could block just as effectively too.  Cullen's experience as a warrior would no doubt render him victorious -- if she hadn't surprised him.  No doubt he hadn't been expecting the fistfight they suddenly found themselves in. 

            Nonetheless, he didn't disappoint.  As she kicked for his ribs, he caught her ankle in his free hand and flung it away.  The momentum transformed itself into a roundhouse kick that connected solidly with his shoulder, but in the next moment, he'd tossed an cross-body punch that rocked her backward.  They fought hard, her throwing hooks toward his face and chest or attempting to block his blows with her forearms, him trying to block without accidentally cutting her open.  She could feel him holding back his true strength with each punch, and that pissed her off even more.  When she dropped one arm to the ground and her torso followed, he was sure she was done only to find her boot buried in his gut.  The breath burst out of him and he was flung back with the force of the blow. 

            This was no longer the sparring contest they'd agreed on.  Now they were straight-up beating the shite out of each other, and the Inquisition couldn't be without its leaders because they'd incapacitated one other. 

            "Talia, darling, stop playing with your food," Dorian yelled  as Talia managed to get her feet under herself.  She tried to shake her head but found she didn't quite have the strength.  

            Across from her, Cullen was trying to straighten up but didn't quite seem able to do it either; instead, he was bent at the waist, trying to keep his sword at the ready and breathing hard. 

            "Time to end it, Boss," Bull shouted, and Talia couldn't agree more. 

            She didn't give Cullen time to collect himself, instead charging straight for him.  Only one dagger left and exhausted, but she bet she could still beat him. 

            At the last second, he dropped onto the ground, his sword clattering against the wood.  She threw herself into a roll over his back, spinning around as she rose and jumped on him.  The dagger in her hand rested against his throat, her other arm wrapped around his head. 

            "Yield," she gasped in his ear. 

            There was a brief pause.  Their audience fell silent to hear the Commander's response. 

            "I could ask the same of you, my lady," he murmured, and for the first time, she felt the knife pressed against her ribs. 

            They had tied.  Both were mere nudges from death, should the other have been so inclined.  And in a real fight, neither would have won. 

            "Where'd you get the knife," she asked, and his chuckle vibrated through his chest and her body pressed against him. 

            "I always have a dagger in my boot," he answered.  He lifted his head against her arm and she loosened her grip.  Just beyond them, Varric, Dorian, and Bull stared down at them.  Dorian and Bull had the same disbelieving look, which would have been funny in other circumstances.  Varric looked extraordinarily pleased; money was spilling out of the bucket in front of him now.  As both Talia and Cullen stared, Leliana began to clap. 

            The sound spilled into the ring, awkward and alone for a moment before the soldiers around them took it up.  Then the applause roared through the courtyard, thunderous and echoing off Skyhold's high walls. 

            After a moment of surprise, Talia stood up off Cullen's back.  Her tunic clung to her with a mix of their sweat and she picked at it.  The Commander stood as well, pushing himself to his feet with a hand on one knee.  They faced each other, each breathing hard.  The stench of sweat rolled off of them, but neither minded.  A cherry of a bruise was forming on one side of Cullen's ribs, and she now had a nice matching set covering her shoulder and jaw. 

            "It appears we are evenly matched, Commander," she said finally.  

            "In more ways than one," he replied.  Talia saw her own surprise mirrored on Cullen's face at his words.  He immediately started stammering, lifting a hand to rub the back of his neck.  "That is… my lady, I apologize, I didn’t mean…" She let the shock sink in, let him simmer in the moment, before she smiled. 

            "No apologies necessary, Cullen," she said, and he glanced up at her, his face red.  When he realized she meant it, he offered a small smile in return. 

            "Inquisitor… Talia, I…" He trailed off, his hand leaving his neck to reach between them, palm up.  Their eyes met. 

            Talia froze.  Had he taken all her in-the-ring flirting seriously? She held her breath, barely daring to hope, and cautiously extended her hand. 

            "Your Inquisitor, everyone!" Varric broke the moment by leaping between them, lifting Talia's arm as high as he could.  The soldiers cheered louder, if that was possible, and she suddenly remembered all the people around them. 

            "Well fought!" Dorian shouted from the sidelines, Bull cheering at his side.  She could just hear Sera chanting, "Quizzie! Quizzie!" from her window above. 

            Talia squirmed under the attention.  "I didn’t win, Varric," she stammered as Dorian and Bull started whistling for her.  "We tied." She tried to pull away from Varric's iron grip. 

            "Take the praise," Cassandra said, stepping up behind her and clapping a hand to her shoulder.  "You've earned it." Talia ignored her and looked around for her Commander. 

            He had vanished. 

            No evidence remained from their fight except for the rags of his shirt laying against a post.  Even his shield was already gone.  She finally wiggled away from Varric, who was now collecting his winnings, and picked the linen up carefully.  The smell of sweat mixed with something lemony drifted up from it.  Cassandra considered her with sharp eyes, but she didn't notice.

            Talia spun, her eyes searching the crowd for blonde hair and a hesitant smile that was nowhere to be found.


End file.
